Timberrrrrrrrr
One summer's evening back in the mists of time... no, that's a crap way to start any story that doesn't involve dragons and stuff, I'll start that again.

So, after a nice evening out in a very nice pub, I found myself standing in a station waiting for the last train of the night to take me home for a kebab. Standing around waiting for the train, minding my own business, I noticed a rather well-refreshed gentleman a little way down the platform. Well, I say "well-refreshed", it was more like... catatonic. He staggered around a bit and then realised that he'd be better off not bothering with all that movement lark, finding a wall to lean on instead. All well and good.

...no.

A couple of minutes later, I glanced down the platform to see this chap, still leaning against the wall but falling over forwards in a rigid standing posture, in the manner of a tree being felled, until he hit the floor with his face taking the entire impact. Cue tears of laughter from everyone on the platform we were on, and the one opposite.

I felt quite bad for laughing. He was alright though, apart from probably a bit of a sore face to go with the hangover the next day. He didn't even drop his bottle in the fall - priorities!
( Dave McF wrote some words on, Sun 24 Jan 2010, 22:25, 1 reply)

Stout fellow.
It's amazing what lengths one can go to when pissed to protect one's beer. My mate fell off a six-foot wall and, with a staggered landing, did a forward roll and stood up, saying proudly as he lifted his can aloft "Didn't spill a drop!"
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 25 Jan 2010, 9:35, closed)